Hidden Destination
by Niroveka
Summary: Samewise Gamgee gives us a few more details in his master's young days, and the trouble they ran into in Farmer Maggot's fields. This account was later added to the Red Book.


_A story entered into the Red Book by Samwise Gamgee, with permission by Owner and Editor, Meriadoc Brandybuck_

I shall tell you a tale, a tale of which, upon my honor, not a single letter or phrase has been altered in its retelling. It is a tale of not so many by-gone years...one that many will soon hereafter know by heart, and one which I had hoped to forget. But I now realize, that in doing so, the generations to come would have been deprived of much needed and sought-after insight into the mind and heart of one long revered...my Master and beloved friend, Frodo Baggins of the Shire.

When I was a hobbitling, I dwelt with my mother and Gaffer on the Hill, in Number 3 Bagshot Row, just under Bag End. It was a peaceable life; my Gaffer taught me everything he knew about gardening and planting, and of every useful aspect of the business. When I wasn't learning about shrubs and grasses, or working in my own little flowerpots, I would call on our neighbors and masters, the Bagginses. As many of your fathers and grandfathers will tell you, Mr. Bilbo Baggins was thought a little... . True, he had a big heart, and was very generous and hospitable, but there were certain things about him that made people scratch their heads. Even my old Gaffer wondered about him sometimes.

"Vera strange behavior, he 'as, that Mr. Bilbo. Now I ain't sayin' that I don't like 'im. He's my master and a good friend, but I ain't never heard 'im have a conversin' with anyone without sayin' somethin' a little...peculiar."

I must admit, even I myself thought Mr. Bilbo somewhat strange; he was always pouring over maps and history books and that sort of thing long into the night.

But we did have something in common, two things in fact. One was our insatiable curiosity about elves. Both of us, I think, wanted nothing more in life than to see elves, at least once in our lifetime. There had been rumors floating about for almost as long as I could remember that Mr. Bilbo had seen elves once, when he traveled with the strange-clad old man named Gandalf, the one with the fireworks. When I sought out the truth from the jolly hobbit himself, Mr. Bilbo looked at me with a gleam in his eye, and said, "Sonny, do you think all those 'rumors' are true? If you think so, than you keep right on believing so. It's what you want to believe in that counts." I never forgot the words, and I was well rewarded for it later in life.

The second thing that brought us together was his nephew and cousin, Mr. Frodo. He was only a few months younger than I, and we bonded very quickly. In our childhood and tweens, we were a bit mischievous, but we were inseparable, and always stood up for each other whenever one of us got into trouble.  
Now, not to boast, but Mr. Frodo was really the one to keep an eye on, both eyes if possible. He was constantly getting into scraps and dares, always demanding that he could do whatever he was asked, even if he didn't know what the consequences would be. Sometimes that stubborn Took streak would flare up, and he would get himself into the worst trouble imaginable. Perhaps that's what got him started on his Journey in the first place, never being able to say no to an apparently unconquerable challenge.

Anyway, let me continue. As I said, we were inseparable, which often got me into trouble as well. Mr. Frodo would take me with him in most of his escapades, and usually, they would end with the two of us having a 'talking' to by our guardians. In our defense, it was these boyish rompings and scrapings that made us life-long friends, even we did not know how closely knit they had made us until many years later.

And now I have come to the heart of this story. I strongly encourage, nay even admonish all the hobbitlings and tweens that shall hereafter read this book: Never repeat the actions that are laid out in detail here. They may get you in dire circumstances someday.

One day in the autumn, just after his 13th birthday, Mr. Frodo appeared on my frontstep all excited and eager, with an "idea". The look on my face must have revealed what I was thinking.

"Don't worry, Sam!" he clapped me on the back. "It won't end up like last time! I promise!"

Though it pained me to admit, I couldn't take his promise seriously. "Mr. Frodo," I stared hard at him, "Last time, I was grounded for a month because you got me in a heap of trouble with my Gaffer. I don't want to go through that again! Plus," I interrupted his usual ejaculation. "Plus, I upset the Gaffer, and I hate doing that. I love him so much, I don't want to disappoint him by being rowdy."

His deep eyes gazed at me pleadingly. "Please, old chap? I really need your help on this one. I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to get you in trouble. How was I to know your Gaffer had just planted an entire acre of corn-seed? Well," he admitted, "maybe I did go a little wild digging holes there for our golfing tournament, but it was such a good field...Well, no matter, all's over and done with now, right?"

I just stared at him. 'And I had 6 par too,' I thought. 'Much better than last time.'

"Come on, Sam, it'll be alright! I promise!" He crossed his heart.

I wasn't sure, but he was obviously in a pinch of some kind, and I couldn't let him down. "Alright, Mr. Frodo. Lead on." My voice didn't hold much enthusiasm.

My secrecy immediately sworn to, Mr. Frodo then laid out his plan. He was determined that in the dead of night, when the moon had risen and all of Hobbiton was asleep, together, we would walk the length of Mr. Maggot's field and make it back home, without being seen by anyone, or being eaten by wolves.

I didn't say anything. I was too stunned.

If Mr. Frodo noticed, he never said. He told me when to meet him, and with another, supposedly encouraging, clap to my back, scurried back up the Hill to the protection of Bag End.

'Why do I always have to promise him?' I bemoaned myself.

"You'll have to come with me, Sam," he had said, now a common phrase that passed between us. "That way in case anything happens to me, you'll be able to tell everyone where my body is." A comforting thought...it was not. In fact, I was a little disconcerted about all of it, but I had promised I would go, and I stick to my promises.

So, on Thursday, about midnight, I crept out of my window—actually...I fell out; I was always the clumsy one—grabbed my walking stick out of the Gaffer's shed, and made my way up the Hill. Frodo was already waiting for me on Bag End's front step. He was very enthusiastic and happy, while I on the other hand was as skittish as a mouse, constantly starring about me, and starting at the slightest sounds.

"Relax," Mr. Frodo put his arm around me. "Everything will be fine, and wait until you see the looks on everyone's faces when we tell them what we've done!"

"No, Mr. Frodo!" I was afraid to raise my voice, but I'm sure it held my anxiety. "You're not going to tell everyone!"

Frodo grinned mischievously. "No, my dear Sam!" He hugged my shoulders tight and we started off towards Maggot's farm. "No, I was only kidding: I'm not going to tell everyone."

My heart sank; Frodo obviously had more planned for the night that he hadn't told me. The Gaffer would kill me when he found out. But I didn't argue; my heart wasn't in it.

Frodo didn't seem to notice. He was cheerful and almost light-hearted, though how he could be in that awful darkness I'll never know.

When we were almost to the Eastern Field, Mr. Frodo halted near a tree and pulled me down alongside him, looking around. There was utter silence. Not on owl stirred, no cricket sounded; it was almost as if time itself had ceased passing. It was eerie.

I hadn't been that scared since the time Fatty Bolger and I crept into "haunted" Bag End, during the time Mr. Bilbo had disappeared. Shivers ran down my spine, and I shuddered, both from the cold wind, and the growing apprehension of what we were about to do.

"All clear!" Mr. Frodo's voice made me jump. He caught me before I was able to make a yelp. "Easy, Sam. Don't worry! Stick to me like glue, and we'll be out of here before you can say 'Mirkwood spiders'!" The choice of words wasn't exactly appealing to me. "This will be fun!" Frodo continued. He looked down the path we had just come, his voice lowering mischievously. "We'll prove them both wrong tonight!"

Before I could ask what he was talking about, Mr. Frodo pulled me to my feet and we dashed to the cornfield as quickly as possible. An owl finally hooted from somewhere, and the cold, prickly grass crunched beneath our feet. I swallowed hard, hoping to hold back the lump that was rising in my already dry throat. My hope remained just that.

We began our entry into the cornstalks, forced to slow for fear of damaging the precious crops; Mr. Maggot would never forgive us if we damaged even one of his beautiful stalks. We pushed our way through—seeming to last an eternity to me—the stalks reached out to snag us, themselves warning us not to go any further. In my heart, I agreed; we didn't belong there.

My head down in defeat and shame, I suddenly collided into my friend's back. There was a loud thud where I hit the ground. I glared up at him. "You stopped."

Frodo knelt beside me. "Sorry, old chap. I thought you heard me say, 'Stop!'" It took great resistance for me not to punch his lights out right then and there, his eyes mocking me for my clumsiness.

"What are you doing now?" I demanded, though still careful not to let my voice rise above a loud whisper.

"I need you to keep a lookout for me."

"What!" There was something up his sleeve; I knew it!

"Shh!" he chided. "Just stay here, and I'll be back in a few minutes!" He turned to the right to begin his hidden mission, but I stopped him.

"Oh, no you don't!" I pulled his sleeve, hard. He collapsed in a heap beside me. "What are we doing here, Mr. Frodo? I don't want to get in trouble again!"

Frodo grinned. "You're not going to get in trouble, Sam. This is something I have to do. I can't back down now, not when I'm so close!" His face broke into a wide smile. "I know I can trust you Sam, that's why I brought you here to watch after me!" He stood once more, and procured a large canvas bag from his britches' pocket. He tucked it under his arm and tightened his suspenders, as if he was preparing for battle. "Now, keep a lookout for me. If you see anything suspicious, come and get me, alright? I'll be just on the other side of these cornstalks." Without another word, the Baggins disappeared.

I sat where I had landed, my arms crossed in a huff, tapping my fingers on my arm impatiently. "'Cross the fields and back', my eye! He's got his own little agenda for this evening! He's always using me..." I wasn't really angry, but the thought of the Gaffer's face when he found out that I had been trespassing on someone's property, with that "rowdy, little Baggins mischief-maker"...I shuddered, hastily turning my thoughts back to the present.

'What is on the other side of this field?' I wondered. 'Mr. Frodo apparently has something he needs to find, or he wouldn't have brought such a large sack with him...What on Middle-Earth could he be...' An idea suddenly popped into my mind. 'That blasted Brandybuck! He's got Mr. Frodo doing his business for him, again! And no doubt that little rascal Peregrin is in on it too!'

I jumped to my feet, ready to dash over to the other side and demand that Frodo stop what he was doing and let his cousins take care of their own troubles; they shouldn't use him as their capegoat.

But just as I entered the stalks, Frodo smashed into me, and for the second time that night I mad contact with the ground, even harder than before. Somehow the collision didn't affect him, and he stood there looking at me expectantly.

"You're done already?" I jumped up, rubbing my aching thigh. "Mr. Frodo, you can't let your cousins use you like this! It's not right that you should take the blame for something they dared you to do!"

Frodo grinned. "It's not as bad as all that, Sam. I wanted to do it! Come on, let's get home. We've done what we came to do."

"But, but...but...!" I was at a loss for words.

"Come _on_, Sam! We should get out of here now. Hobbits shouldn't be out in the dark, you know." I ignored his playful sarcasm and agreed; we needed to get back to the protection of our _smials_ and under the covers of our beds. I knew that after tonight, I would always appreciate the warmth and comfort of my own home; the darkness was always less intimidating when you weren't outside in it.

We continued on our original path through the tall stalks, tension tightening in my throat; it was later than I liked, and though Mr. Frodo would have insisted I was just seeing things, I thought for sure I saw shadows lurking in the crops beside us. There was also a very disturbing smell; at first I barely noticed, but as we continued our midnight traipsing, it gradually became stronger and more poignant, permeating the air. It was horrid, like rotting fungus. I didn't have the courage to ask Mr. Frodo if he smelled it too, but I had to wonder at the size of his bulging pocket.

After a while though, I had to admit that things were going well. We had reached the halfway point of our journey (after Frodo's mysterious detour), and so far, we hadn't become a midnight snack for the hungry predators I had been certain were lurking about. I relaxed a little. Maybe the Gaffer wouldn't find out after all...

The presumption was premature. The cornstalks suddenly ended and butted up against a grassy plough-path that ran the length of the fields. We were just about to make a dash across it and into the last field for our homeward journey, when...we saw It. We clasped each other tight, falling to our knees as if the ground itself had dropped away from underneath our feet.

It was a lonesome creature, but dark and frighteningly tall. It stood out in the field before us, its arms reaching towards the heavens as if in prayer, a tall pike in one hand. Though we couldn't see its eyes, we knew it stared out at us from underneath the dark hood. It gazed at us, daring us to come closer, to let it's iron grip ensnare us.

A wolf howled nearby, then another. From above, a hawk's piercing cry sent fresh chills down our spine, as if the dark creature before us had sent him to taunt us. As we knelt there in frozen terror, our thoughts raced, desperately searching for way to escape. Our minds came to a simultaneous answer: we panicked.

/\/\/\

Tearing into Bag End, winded and aching, we collapsed on the floor, our sides heaving and our hair drenched with perspiration. For the third time that night, I was on the bottom of the heap, my already bruised thigh throbbing from the abuse. Mr. Frodo lay on top of me for a minute, both of us staring up at the unique pattern the rafters made on the ceiling. How long we lay there on the wooden floor I don't know, but neither of us were ready to sit up any time soon.

Only when the strong smell hit my nostrils once again did I venture to say anything. When I couldn't stand the smell any longer, I knew I would have to break the silence to make Frodo remove the hideous-smelling pocket away from me.

"What was that thing?" The silence seemed all the louder when I whispered aloud.

Frodo eased off me slowly. "I don't know...I don't know what on earth it was..."

I rose to my elbows, looking at my best friend. I didn't say anything for a moment, choosing my words carefully. I loved him dearly, but sometimes...

"I hope you're satisfied, Mr. Frodo," I finally said. "You realize we could have been _killed_, don't you?"

Frodo dropped his eyes in shame. "You're right, Sam. I'm sorry. I just didn't want to go out there without you...You're such a good friend...I didn't want to have any fun without you with me. I'd feel guilty leaving you out of it..."

I shut my eyes is exasperation. Our definitions of 'fun' were obviously different. But I thanked him anyway. Not many people ever took the time to think that way about me.

At last I crept back home, jumping back in through my bedroom window as silently as I could. I buried my head under my pillow, promising myself I wouldn't look out from under it until I was persuaded, without the faintest shadow of a doubt, that morning had dawned.

It wasn't until many years later that I found out the truth of our mission that night, as Mr. Maggot himself revealed to me, much to Frodo's embarrassment. A special treat always grew on the other side of Maggot's cornfield, and it was this prize that the then young Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took had cast their eyes upon.

But, whom of course did the rascally companions dare to make the long, dark trek to the precious prize? And who, of course, would immediately promise to accompany him? The four of us always had a special love for mushrooms, even more so than most, and our love for them would cause us to stop at almost nothing to taste them.

And Frodo's reward for braving the elements? I never found out, though it was later rumored that the cousins had somehow come into possession of an ancient pipe, the finest ever made in the Shire. And the rumor could be true...Though he, at the time, was not yet old enough to use it, I often found Mr. Frodo sitting on the front-step of Bag End, an intricate, curiously carved pipe in his hand, wafts of Old Toby filling the cool air around him. Often I would have a smoke with him, and as I would sit beside him, puffing away, a quiet but lively gleam would fill his bright eyes, and a far-off look would drift over his face, as if he was remembering something precious to him.

And what of the mysterious creature lurking in the fields that night? It was with embarrassment several days later that I discovered what scarecrows actually looked like. Little did I know that Farmer Maggot knew it wouldn't just keep the crows away….

Even in later years, mushrooms would continue to get us into the worst situations you could imagine. Yes, my young readers: mushrooms, believe it or not, even had a part to play in the fate of Middle-Earth. But that is a tale that I may choose to undertake at another time.

**_The End_**


End file.
